


Does Prince Han Is Gay?

by Epher



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Marriage, Autistic Character, Forbidden Love, M/M, More Ships to come, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Pining, Polyamory, This story is on indefinite hiatus, Trans Character, cw: torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epher/pseuds/Epher
Summary: Prince Jumin Han is the heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world. Though he is content with his secret love affair with the thief named Zen, he must enter an arranged marriage with another kingdom of his choosing. However, all of the potential marriages are with princesses, and Jumin can't bring himself to pick one.Luckily for Jumin, there's a starry-eyed prince who would be more than happy to help.





	1. The Young Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I know I can't control who reads this, but this is just a plea anyway: if you're under 18, please don't read this story! It has a lot of very explicit things that are meant for adults. As someone who was unknowingly traumatized by smut fanfic as a child, I'm uncomfortable with kids reading my NSFW stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have changed their ages for this fic. Zen is two years younger than Jumin, and Yoosung is four years younger than Jumin.

The parade was one of Jumin's favorite annual events. As the twelve-year-old prince of Rhell, he wasn't allowed to go out into his kingdom and mingle with the citizens, so the parade was the only time where he got to actually walk the streets of their capitol. His father wanted him to sit with him in the grand, open carriage, but Jumin preferred to walk. He liked to avoid his father whenever he could, especially when he was carting around a new woman. He wrinkled his nose when he recalled the conversation he had had the night before with his uncle Sung-min.

_"Are you going to ride in the carriage with your father tomorrow?" Sung-min asked._

_Jumin crossed his arms as he pouted. "He's going to have that lady with him."_

_Sung-min gave him a sideways glance. It had a meaning to it, but Jumin couldn't tell what it was. He was bad at reading people's faces._

_"Uncle Sung-min," Jumin complained, "Those ladies hate me! And I hate them too! I don't want to ride with them." After his mother had died years before, his father began courting woman after woman, each one meaner than the last. It was confusing and frustrating._

_Sung-min kneeled down in front of Jumin and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "They don't hate you. They might dislike you, but that's only because they know they'll never be as kind or as loving as your mother was."_

_Tears pricked at Jumin's eyes and he glared at the floor. "Why does Father like those ladies? Why doesn't he miss Mother?"_

_"He does," Sung-min assured him, his voice gentle._

_"No!" Jumin shouted, then felt bad for raising his voice. He whispered, "He was laughing with one of those ladies the day after she died."_

_Sung-min rubbed his shoulders. "Your father is a strange man. He deals with his pain in strange ways. Ways that aren't the best. But he does miss your mother."_

_It was hard to believe him._

Jumin walked in front of the calvary, careful to avoid any manure from the horses further ahead of him in the parade. The citizens lined the streets, dressed in their best clothes and waving silk handkerchiefs. The women pointed and cooed at him, and he couldn't help but frown. He was twelve years old, not two!

He was distracted from his pouting when he noticed some peasants running and shouting behind the other citizens. One of them, a blond man wearing a black cap, met his gaze and stopped the others, pointing at him. "Young man!" the peasant yelled.

A guard turned around and reached for his sword, but Jumin approached the side of the street. "Stand down!" he ordered the guard. He peered through the crowd, but the peasants were gone. He stood on his tip-toes to see over the other citizens, but it was to no avail. He hesitated for a moment, then turned around and waited for the calvary to pass before continuing on his way. He was closer to his father now, and could see him if he turned around, but at least he was still out of earshot.

Towards the end of the parade, the precession took a sharp turn around a couple of tall buildings. As Jumin was turning the corner, he saw the guards in front of him draw their swords. A mob of peasants had flooded the street, yelling and blocking the parade from continuing. Flags unrolled on the sides of the buildings, bearing gray claw marks on an ugly brown background. Jumin had seen that symbol before, once when he had snuck into a meeting with his father and his advisors. One of the advisors had been holding one of those flags in his hand, and was talking with an urgent voice while his father looked frustrated. He had been quickly removed from the room once he was discovered.

Jumin barely heard his father's voice over the noise. "What is going on?!" The king had left his carriage and was storming toward the scene, shoving off the guards who tried to stop him.

The sound of a cart being pulled into the street was just enough warning for Jumin to turn back around to find the peasants grabbing rotten fruit from the cart and chucking it at the king. Jumin ducked, and the tomato that would have hit him in the head splat all over the king's tunic.

One of the peasants stood up on top of an overturned cart in the road. Jumin recognized him as the blond man who had yelled at him earlier. "How much of our food did you steal from us to make this happen?!" he screamed.

Jumin eyed the guards, but they were waiting for the king's orders before attacking. 

The peasant wasn't finished. "This is a grand parade, Your Majesty." He spread his arms wide and turned from side to side, smiling at the king. Jumin noticed the yellow patch on his jacket's right sleeve, the required marking for any Jews living in Rhell. He never understood the point of the marking, but his father insisted it was necessary. "How many of us have starved because of this celebration?" the peasant asked.

Jumin looked back at his father, confused by the peasant's questions. Someone grabbed him and yanked him back towards the royal carriage, but Jumin continued to watch his father. The king was doing nothing, staring at the peasants gathered in front of him. Jumin cursed his inability to read facial expressions. What was his father thinking? What was he going to do about this? Was he going to just stand there and allow this chaos to happen?

The king raised a hand towards the guard who was pulling Jumin away. "Let him stay for now," he said, "He'll be king one day. Let him see what these rats have to say." The guard let go of Jumin, who held his shoulder where he had been grabbed so roughly.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" another peasant cried, before throwing a loaf of moldy bread. The other peasants followed suit, yelling and throwing rotten food at the king.

Anger rose in Jumin's chest. A soft fruit hit him in the face, and he wiped the juice onto his sleeve as he stormed forward. "What do you want?!" he yelled at the blond man still standing on the overturned cart. The chaos died down as the other peasants stopped to watch.

The man looked down at him, then climbed down from the cart. A guard stepped between them, but Jumin shoved at them. "No! Let the man speak!" The guard looked back at the king, then stepped aside.

Jumin stood tall as he looked up at the peasant who now stood before him. He kept eye contact, as uncomfortable as it was, and he noticed that the man's eyes were a shocking red. "Young man," the peasant said, "We want justice."

"What do you want justice for?" Jumin crossed his arms and allowed a frown to pull at his lips. 

The peasant grinned, though he didn't look happy. He pointed at the cart full of rotten food. "This is what we have to eat!" he said, "Go to the market yourself, young man, you'll see! The king takes our crops and our milk, and gives us the rotting leftovers. He gets fat off of our labor, _our_ goods, and we starve for it." He raised his arms again, motioning to the scene around him. "This rebellion is for the citizens, for the starving hard-workers that keep _your_ kingdom upright. Young man." He took a step towards Jumin, his eyes full of passion. "You are the future of this kingdom. Will you stand with us?"

Jumin's eye contact faltered as he took in what the blond man was saying, and how he was saying it. It was a strange way to address a prince, at least from Jumin's experience. Most people either didn't pay attention to him or avoided him, and their words held fake respect. Only lowly servants truly treated him like someone with power and importance. But this peasant was addressing him not as a prince, nor a child, but as a _young man._ He was speaking to Jumin like an equal. Jumin couldn't tell if the peasant was showing bravery or disrespect, but he knew that he liked the change.

"Take him to the carriage." The scene was quiet enough for Jumin to hear his father's voice from behind.

Before he could open his mouth to answer the rebel, Jumin was pulled back by two guards as chaos erupted once again. He struggled against them, but suddenly he was being lifted into the air and thrown into the carriage. He immediately turned to dive from the other side, but the guard shoved him down to the floor of the carriage. The cold and sticky juice from the fruit that had hit him stung his eyes and he felt a sob rise in his throat despite his better judgement. Over the sound of the peasants' yelling and his own crying, he could barely hear his father's command.

"Guards! Attack!"


	2. The Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place four years after the last, and now Jumin is sixteen.
> 
> Also, trigger warning for the use of the h slur in this chapter.

"Burn their fields!" 

Jumin rested his forehead on his hands while he listened to his father ranting in the meeting room. As usual, his father's advisors were present, and his councilmen filled in the rest of the seats. Jumin had only been attending these meetings for a year, but he was already tired of them. 

One of the advisors sighed at the king's outburst. "We would be destroying years' worth of food. We're already missing this year's grain."

"I don't care!" the king shouted, turning on him, "Those rebels are asking for it! They talk about _starving_ but we can show them starving!" 

Jumin let his hands fall from his temples. "Father, you're angry."

The king's glare burned into him. "Yes I'm angry! What of it, child?"

Jumin sighed. "I'm sixteen, father. I'm not a child." He looked down at his hands. "And wise men make calm decisions."

The king slammed his fists on the table, making everyone in the room jump. "They destroyed our wheat! They came into our silos and burned them to the ground! How am I supposed to be calm?!"

"Do you ever stop to wonder why the rebellion exists?" Jumin asked. His heart pounded in his chest as he prepared for what he was about to say. "You say they destroyed _our_ wheat but do you realize that half of the rebels are the farmers that _grew the wheat themselves_?"

The king's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

Jumin took a deep breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on him. He didn't know what the others truly thought, but he doubted that they would attempt to side with him while the king was this angry. He was on his own. "I'm suggesting that we could try letting the citizens keep most of what they produce instead of selling it to other kingdoms for only a slightly larger gain. The money the citizens make on their own would fuel our economy enough to keep the kingdom running and it would make the rebellion unnecessary. Besides, starving our citizens is cruel."

As he had expected, the room was silent. No one dared to even shift in their seat.

The silence was broken by the king's dangerously quiet voice. "Get out."

Jumin stared at the table in front of him. "I don't--"

" _FIRST_ you tell the Bishop that you're homosexual," the king yelled, causing everyone to startle again, " _NOW_ you're sympathizing with the rebellion!"

Jumin tensed. He sighed, but his chest remained tight. "I didn't tell the Bishop, I simply told your last concubine and she relayed the message." In front of everyone, at a royal feast. Even though it happened a year ago, the event had created a crevice between him and his father so great that he doubted they would recover from it.

The king hung his head, and Jumin could see his jaw tense up as if he were trying to contain his anger. "No son of mine is going to act this way." His voice was dangerously low and quiet. "You are not and never will be a homosexual, and you will never speak of the rebellion again, or there will be consequences." Fear filled Jumin when he met his father's angry gaze. "Leave. Now."

Any energy that had been left in Jumin to argue had dissipated. He stood from his chair and left the room, his skin prickling from the feeling of all eyes on him. He walked down the hallway and turned the corner, not certain where he was going. He just wanted to be alone.

Once he had walked for a few minutes, he went into one of the libraries and stood by the window. The sun was setting, and it turned the sky a pretty pink and orange. The silence of the room buzzed in his mind. It was comforting, and it helped to calm him.

The king's voice echoed in his mind. _No son of mine is going to act this way._ What did that mean? Would he disinherit Jumin? He might pass the birthright to one of his little half siblings. _No, that's absurd._ Those children were bastards, they couldn't take the throne. He was the only child of the late Queen, so unless his father married another woman, he was the king's only legitimate son. Besides, those children knew nothing of ruling a kingdom. They didn't even live in the castle.

Jumin frowned at the sunset. Why was it so wrong to sympathize with the rebellion? It had been four years since that massacre at the parade, but the sounds of it still haunted him. The steady noise of peasants yelling for freedom, turning into screams of pain and death. The dull thuds that Jumin could only attribute to bodies hitting the bloody stone road. The sickening sound of swords lodging into flesh. Those men gave up their lives, knowing that the king had guards at the ready, knowing that their families would never see them again, all so that they could challenge the king. _All so that they could show the young prince what they fought for._ Why was it so wrong to want to listen to them?

Jumin heard a knock on the large wooden doors. He remained silent.

"Prince Jumin?" It was Sung-min.

Relief filled him. He could trust his uncle. "Come in."

The doors let out a low creak as his uncle entered the room. 

"How did you know where I was?" Jumin asked.

"I asked everyone I came by." Sung-min approached Jumin slowly. "I thought you might want some company."

Jumin turned back to stare out the window. "Do you agree with me?"

Sung-min was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was soft. "Most people agree with you. We just can't say such."

Jumin pressed his lips together. He had known as much, but hearing it out loud helped to ease his anxiety a little. "I fear that I won't be able to lead." Jumin wasn't sure Sung-min could hear his mumbling, but he heard his uncle sigh and step toward him.

Sung-min placed his hands on Jumin's shoulders and gave him a sympathetic look. "You will be the greatest king that Rhell has ever seen."

Jumin made an incredulous face. "King Jumin the Homosexual?"

Sung-min tilted his head. "Tsk. Think more highly of yourself, Jumin."

"Am I wrong? What else would they call me?" Jumin raised his eyebrows.

Sung-min looked down and fidgeted with Jumin's coat. "King Jumin the Kind," he murmured, then looked into Jumin's eyes. The eye contact was uncomfortable, but Jumin held it. "You are kind, Jumin. You are compassionate. That is what a king should be. You may not be the most charming or the most sociable, but that's okay. My brother is cruel, and the kingdom hates him. When you take the throne, they will see your kindness as a blessing after his cruelty."

"And if I don't have a Queen?" Jumin asked.

"They will be too busy eating full meals and putting on warm clothing to care about who you spend your life with." Sung-min smiled. "And why does it matter if people call you King Jumin the Homosexual? Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing, after the hatred your father has spread across this kingdom, to be known by nothing other than your love?"

Jumin looked down and tried to grimace through the smile that pulled at his lips. It was too good to be true, but he found it difficult not to be comforted by those words.

Sung-min pulled him into a hug, rocking side to side slowly. "One day you will be the cool water to this burning kingdom, Prince Jumin."

There were very few people that Jumin allowed to touch him, and his uncle was one of them. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax in the warm embrace. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he didn't realize he had been holding them in since he had left the meeting.

"Thank you."

* * *

The sun had long disappeared over the horizon by the time Jumin left the library. Sung-min had stayed for a while to talk about politics and economy, but he eventually left Jumin to read on his own until his eyes grew tired.

The path back to his room was one he rarely took. This side of the castle was mainly used by servants, and now the halls were deserted and dimly lit by candles on the walls. He supposed it must be late at night.

A dull thud followed by a soft whisper from one of the rooms led Jumin to pause. It was probably one of the servants, and he really shouldn't pry, but he wanted to know what time it was.

When he opened the door to the small storage room, he saw someone in servants clothing holding a loaded bag, reaching up for something on a shelf on the other side of the room. "Excuse me," Jumin began.

The person froze, their arm still raised in the air, before they turned around. It was a young man, maybe even a boy, with odd white hair and striking red eyes. Jumin paused, his chest tightening with a strange feeling as he looked. Was it déjà vu? No, he had never seen this boy before. He would have remembered someone so beautiful. Still, he looked familiar...

"Excuse me," Jumin repeated, stepping into the room and allowing the door to close, "Do you know what time it is?"

The white haired boy looked terrified. He shook his head quickly.

Jumin took a few steps closer. He wanted to know more about this boy. "Who are you?" he asked.

The boy stumbled backward, and the bag slipped out of his hands. He fumbled to catch it, but it hit the ground and fell open. Gold glinted in the candlelight, and Jumin recognized one of his crowns, along with jewelry and trinkets. He looked up at the boy, whose face showed utter horror. 

Jumin walked closer, though warily. He watched as the boy started to violently shake and take another step back. "Are you a thief?"

The boy swallowed. His breath came out in pants as he seemed to hyperventilate. "Are you going to kill me?" His voice was soft and sweet, even as it was filled with terror.

Jumin shook his head, and kept his tone soft, like the way Sung-min had talked to him earlier that evening. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm not like my father." He had decided that long ago, and this was his chance to prove that to himself. Whether this was a naughty servant or a robber, Jumin wasn't cruel like the king.

The boy looked disbelieving at first, though his breathing slowed. "Are you the prince?"

Jumin nodded. "I am Prince Jumin Han." He looked down at the bag of gold. "So you're taking this. Are you with the rebellion?"

The boy hesitated. He looked wary, as if debating whether Jumin was hostile, before his expression hardened into determination. "I am," he said, standing tall, "Anyone with half a mind is."

Jumin felt his chest swell with some unknown emotion. He couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He motioned toward the bag. "Will this be going to them?"

The boy shifted on his feet and averted his gaze. "N-no."

"No?" Jumin furrowed his brow. "What will you do with it?"

The boy tugged at his white hair nervously. "I-I was going to take it home. The ghettos aren't doing well, Y-Your Majesty..."

The ghettos... "Are you Jewish?"

The boy nodded, looking down at his feet and seeming to shrink into himself.

Jumin frowned. "What exactly is happening in the ghettos?" he asked, "I know my father has the Jews separated from the rest of the kingdom, but I've never seen one of these ghettos before. What do you mean by 'they aren't doing well'?"

Confusion seemed to cross the boy's face. _Or was it wariness?_ "We're poor. Most of us are hungry and we can't afford medicine or clothing. Winter is coming, and a lot of us will die." He looked aside, and Jumin recognized distress or worry on his face. "My father died four years ago in a rebel fight, and my older brother is sick so I'm the only one left who can feed us. I'm a musician, but no one can afford to pay me because everyone is too poor, and I'm not allowed to play for wealthy people because I'm stuck in the ghetto. I figured that I would try taking something from here to pay for my family, and maybe other families too, and if I die then that will just be one less mouth for Mama to feed."

Jumin's heart ached, and he felt nausea rise in his stomach. How had this happened? Did his father know about this? Would he care, if he did? He tried to swallow, but another lump had formed in his throat, this one stinging and painful. "Don't take the crown." His voice cracked and he tried to swallow again. "If someone finds you with it you'll be executed, no one will want to buy it from you, not even the fences." He looked into those crimson eyes, forcing himself to hold the eye contact. "Will you wait here for me? I'll bring you some gold you can use instead."

The boy stared at him for a moment, but eventually nodded and looked away. Jumin turned and left the room, chewing on his lip nervously. Would the boy really wait for him? He wouldn't blame him if he fled now.

He made his way to one of the treasury rooms, trying to appear calm and unhurried in case anyone saw him. He pushed the door open and peeked in, and sighed with relief when he saw that it was empty. He rushed over to the desk and took out a blank slip of paper and a feather pen. He dipped the pen in ink and bent over the desk to write the name and address of a fence that would trade jewelry for common money. He added "reference: Jumin Han" at the end of the note, for the boy to show his legitimacy to the fence. He knew the man personally, after having traded with him in order to buy erotic literature with common money. He hadn't known at the time that he could simply take money from the treasury, as he did now. 

He then opened the treasury book and added a withdrawal of three hundred gold pieces in his name, with "personal" in the subject line. Once he had done that, he opened the top left drawer of the desk and felt around underneath the clutter until he found the break in the wood. He peeled it up and reached into the small compartment there for the treasury key. With the key in hand he rushed over to the chest on the other side of the room and unlocked it. He took three bags of one-hundred gold pieces, then locked the chest. He barely remembered to grab the fence reference from the desk on his way out.

When he returned to the storage room, his heart stopped when he didn't immediately see the boy. "Are you still here?" he whispered, looking around the room.

It was quiet for a few seconds, then he saw the white haired boy slowly stand up from behind a large chest in the corner. He looked scared, as if he were expecting Jumin to come back with guards. 

Jumin smiled at the boy and walked over to him. "This is three hundred gold pieces," he said, setting the bags on the chest. He fished the piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to the boy. "This is a fence that will buy your jewelry from you. He knows me, so show him this paper when you see him."

The boy put the bags of money in his larger bag with the rest of his stolen treasure, then put the paper in his pocket. He stood straight and looked at Jumin. "Why are you helping me?" His voice was quiet.

Jumin pressed his lips together before he answered. "I'm supposed to rule this kingdom one day. It's a ruler's job to take care of his citizens. I want to be a good king."

The boy smiled, and Jumin couldn't help but mimic it as his chest was filled with happiness at the sight. He reached into his bag and pulled out Jumin's crown, and handed it to him.

Jumin took the crown. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Hyun."

"And how old are you, Hyun?"

"I'm 14."

Jumin nodded and smiled. "I'm 16."

Hyun looked down, a thoughtful smile on his lips. "We're around the same age. I wonder if we could have been friends if things were...if it was different..." His smile faded and pulled at his hair again.

Jumin hummed. "We can still be friends. Even if it's a secret." 

Hyun's eyes widened. "Really?"

Jumin nodded. "I accept letters from everyone. You may write to me anytime."

Hyun grinned and leaned down to haul his bag over his shoulder. "I'll tell you how it goes then."

"That would be wonderful." Jumin stepped back. "I'll help you out of here, if you'd like."

Jumin showed Hyun to one of the secret passages leading from one of the libraries out past the castle's backside. It wasn't entirely secret, but since only a few nobles knew of it, it wasn't guarded except on occasion. "Good luck," he said as he handed Hyun a candle to light the dark passageway.

Hyun stepped into the tunnel, then paused and turned around. His eyes shone a beautiful orange in the light, and Jumin forgot how to breathe as realization dawned on him. Those were the same ruby eyes as the blond man who had spoken to him at the massacre four years before. Hadn't Hyun said that his father had died in a rebel fight? _Had I seen the last moments of this boy's father?_

"Thank you, Prince Jumin," Hyun said before he disappeared down the stairs, "You're going to be the best king that Rhell's ever seen."

Jumin stayed in that library for a while after he had closed the passageway. His heart felt as though it were going to burst with happiness from meeting such a beautiful boy, anxiety from wondering if Hyun would make it back to his family, grief from learning the state of the ghettos in Rhell. He couldn't do much as a prince, but seeing the smile on Hyun's face, and the glint of hope in his eyes that held echoes of his rebel father's passion... How could Jumin keep that spark there, even with the king's cruelty? 

His uncle's words echoed in his mind.

_One day you will be the cool water to this burning kingdom, Prince Jumin._


	3. Long Awaited Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumin is now twenty-five, and Zen is twenty-three.

Jumin watched the guards patrol one of the castle's courtyards from his balcony. The night was chilly, but he wore a thick robe to keep out the cold. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach, but his face was expressionless, as usual. 

"Quite late for a smoke, don't you think?" A familiar voice came from behind him.

Jumin's heart clenched when he recognized the sweet, smooth tone. However, he didn't show his surprise. "I don't smoke." He turned around to lean on his balcony and stare at his old friend, now lover. He had a suspicion that his happiness showed on his face once he laid eyes on that beautiful face and silky white hair, but that was okay. It had been a long time since he had seen Hyun, now known by Zen. 

Zen leaned on the door between Jumin's bedroom and balcony. "What's on your mind, Prince Charming?"

Jumin looked away as he was reminded of his anxieties. "You've heard the news," he said, "Unless you've been hiding in a tree for the past six months."

"I've heard rumors," Zen answered, "Trouble finding yourself a bride?"

"Where have you been the past six months, anyway?"

"Have you told anyone why you won't marry?"

Jumin sighed and walked back into his bedroom. "Answer my question," he said. He pulled up the covers of his bed and sat down, making himself comfortable.

Zen followed Jumin to his bed and sat down next to his legs. "I've been working abroad," he said, "I built a new orphanage for a town whose old one burned down. It was a sorry sight."

Jumin smirked. "Did you tell them you were using stolen money?"

Zen smiled at Jumin and watched him from the corners of his eyes. "Even if I did, who would turn down such a handsome sum? Those kids are sleeping better than they ever have in their life."

Jumin looked down, unable to stare into those pretty eyes for long. "If I disapproved then I would have stopped you from robbing our castle years ago."

A mischievous hum left Zen's lips. "That's not why you let me come here." He faced Jumin, pulling his knee up onto the bed. "I'm the only thing that keeps your head on its shoulders in this castle."

"A bold statement."

Zen moved closer, until his hip brushed against Jumin's thigh. "Is it a false one?" he whispered.

Jumin finally looked up, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. He had enough of that during the day. Zen's lips were much more pleasing to look at, anyways. He had missed those lips. "It holds more truth than you could know," Jumin whispered. 

Zen moved in, and Jumin shifted to meet him for a kiss. It was sweet, and adrenaline tickled his insides. Zen was as soft as ever, and Jumin held his face gently. Their mouths parted and they sat together, eyes closed and foreheads touching.

"I missed you," Jumin breathed.

Zen kissed the corner of Jumin's mouth. "I hate to admit it, but I missed you too." He pulled away and hopped over Jumin's legs to sit next to him against the headboard. "Now tell me about these princesses."

Jumin rubbed the back of his finger against his lips. "I don't know what all you've heard... But I have to be arranged a marriage. I've visited thirteen kingdoms so far."

"Thirteen?" Zen asked, "And you turned them all down?"

Jumin nodded.

"Are you sure?" Zen asked, "You don't have to have sex with her just because you're married. Well, other than to make an heir. You could probably pass that responsibility to your dad. He'd be thrilled."

Jumin winced. "Stop," he said, "I don't want a queen."

Zen was looking at him, but Jumin refused to meet his gaze. "You plan to rule Rhell alone then?" He asked.

Jumin sighed. "That would be fine," he said, "I can't exactly crown you as my queen."

Zen breathed out of his nose. "I would kill you in your sleep and establish a socialist democracy the next day," he said.

Jumin smiled sadly. "I know you would," he said. Even though they had been friends ever since they met, and lovers within six years after that, there was still that political divide between them. Zen had seemed to grow more bitter as time went on, probably because the king continued to oppose the rebellion and ignore his citizens. Feeling helpless without the throne, Jumin hadn't done much other than allow Zen to steal from the castle whenever he wished. He told himself that it was going to a good cause, but another part of him challenged that. _Even if he kept it all for himself you'd still let him take it out of guilt._

"So you're just going to turn down all of the marriages?" Zen asked, getting back to the subject of Jumin's dilemma, "Can you do that?"

"I don't know," Jumin said, "I really don't. I know I should just get over it and pick one, but...they're all..."

"They're all women," Zen finished. Jumin nodded. Zen sighed and drew his knees up to his chest. "Are you going to tell them?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jumin said again, "I want to. I want to just tell everyone to stop offering me princesses and send me a prince instead."

"No one will," Zen said, "You don't get heirs that way."

Jumin bit his lip and he nodded. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Zen scooted closer. "What do you want to talk about?"

Jumin turned and studied Zen's face, even meeting Zen's eyes for a second. They were beautiful eyes. "I don't want to talk."

Zen smiled and caressed Jumin's jaw. "Okay," he whispered, and kissed Jumin again.

Zen slid his leg over Jumin's hips and straddled him, pressing down against Jumin's crotch. Jumin lifted his hips and moaned softly as adrenaline filled his lower body. He looked up through lidded eyes at Zen, and slid himself down so he could lay on his back.

Zen rested his hands on either side of Jumin, and his ponytail fell over his shoulder. He smirked down at Jumin and rolled his hips. Jumin moved in time with him, arching his back with desire. He was fully hard now, and upon feeling around, he knew that Zen was as well.

He pressed his hand against Zen's cock through his pants, watching as Zen bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. He loved having that power over him, to make him feel so good that it was painful to hold back his sounds.

"Can I take it tonight?" Jumin asked.

Zen gasped and opened his eyes. "Really?" he asked, "Did you really miss me that much?" He let out a breathy chuckle.

Jumin nodded. "I told you I missed you," he said. He turned to reach below his bed for the bottle of lubricant he had hid under there. He set it on the table beside his bed and turned back to Zen. "I want you to be in control right now," he murmured.

Zen's smirk faded and he looked pensive. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Are you okay?"

Jumin looked down. Zen had noticed his anxiety. He mulled over his current state of mind. "I'm unhappy," he eventually said, "With my situation. I've been craving your presence ever since you left. I'm grateful that you're here, so much that...I'm a little sad that you're going to leave again."

Zen tsk'd and caressed Jumin's cheek. "I'm not leaving like that again soon," he said, "I'll come back to visit. If you want me that bad, you could formally invite me and I'd come any time you want. And I wouldn't have to steal anything either."

Jumin smiled. "I'll think about it," he said. Inviting a (seemingly) total stranger into his castle for private time was suspicious in the least. Zen was a thief, but he occasionally acted in the theatre as a cover. Jumin could potentially claim to have met Zen at a show and began a friendship, but even that would turn heads. Princes don't usually make friends with normal citizens. Not to mention, if anyone recognized him as a member of the rebellion, he would be target practice for the guards. Besides, Zen was a Jew. Even if he didn't look like one, some people were skilled at picking out Jews from a crowd by their mannerisms and body language. Jumin didn't want Zen to endure harassment in the castle because of his ethnicity.

Zen brushed the bangs from Jumin's eyes, rousing him from his stream of thought. "Are you sure you want to have sex?" he asked, "I can stay for a while even if we don't."

Jumin looked to the side and thought about it. "Yes," he said, looking back up at Zen, "I want you to take all of me. I want to forget everything except you."

Zen stared for a moment longer, then moved to the side of Jumin and yanked off his pants. His shirt was next, and soon Jumin was completely naked.

Jumin unbuttoned Zen's shirt while they admired each other's bodies. Zen had a gorgeous physique, one that could only come through endless hours of training. His abdominal muscles were hard and defined, and Jumin never got tired of running his hands up and down them. 

Zen poured the lubricant on his fingers and started to prepare Jumin, who lifted his legs and shifted to get comfortable. Zen's fingers felt nice to Jumin, and he closed his eyes. Zen gently rubbed his fingers in and out, curling them slightly when he pressed them in. 

"You're still as loose as six months ago," Zen said, "Don't tell me you fucked yourself because I was gone."

Jumin opened his eyes and looked at Zen's amused smirk. He smiled back. "I'll fuck myself tomorrow if I feel the need to," he said.

Zen ducked down to hold back a laugh, and his snort made Jumin chuckle. "You're so blunt," Zen said, "It's infuriating and adorable."

"Are you going to move on any time soon?" Jumin asked, "I'm ready."

Zen pulled his fingers out and reached for the lubricant bottle with his clean hand to pour it on the other. He slicked up his cock, then wiped his hand on Jumin's thigh and leaned over him. 

Jumin spread his legs wider and watched as Zen slowly pushed himself inside. He took a deep breath and looked up at Zen, letting his head fall back onto the bed.

Once he was fully inside of Jumin, Zen started to thrust in a fast pace. The moonlight illuminated his face as he stared down at Jumin through lidded eyes. Jumin held his breath as the intense feelings filled his body.

After a few moments, Zen graced his hand over Jumin's cock, eliciting a strained moan from him. With Zen slamming into him relentlessly, he didn't think he was going to last very long. He had wanted this too badly.

Zen lowered himself to one elbow while the other hand wrapped around Jumin's cock and slowly moved. Jumin hooked his arms underneath Zen's and gripped his shoulders, the feeling of being trapped underneath Zen's weight exhilarating him. The feelings in his body started growing more intense, and he gasped through grit teeth. 

"Zen," he breathed, "Zen, I'm...I'm gonna..." He gasped again and arched his back.

"Fuck," Zen groaned, "Me too. " He sped up his strokes and tightened his hand around Jumin.

The intensity became unbearable and Jumin crunched upwards to bite Zen's shoulder and stifle his moan as pleasure took over his mind and body. Zen continued to thrust into him, harder now than ever, and each thrust sent shocks through him.

Zen was losing control, and his thrusts became erratic. When Jumin lay back down on the bed in exhaustion, he grabbed Jumin's ass and pulled. He rested his head in the crook of Jumin's neck, and his hot breath sent shivers down Jumin's spine. It wasn't long before he reached his orgasm, shoving himself hard into Jumin with every release.

Their breathing came out in hard pants as they calmed down. Zen pulled out and Jumin let his aching legs fall back to the bed, savoring the the friction of skin against skin with the post-orgasm warmth that tickled his body. He could feel Zen's semen slip around inside of him, and leak out onto his sheets. He was going to have to deal with that in the morning.

Zen lay down on top of Jumin, and both of their hearts pounded against each others' chests. Jumin's hands found themselves in that silky white hair, and he rubbed his fingers back and forth. Zen kissed Jumin's shoulder. "I really missed that," he breathed.

Jumin moved his hands down to Zen's back, rubbing circles against the defined muscles there. "Me too," he whispered, closing his eyes. Sleep was on the horizon of his mind.

Zen kissed Jumin again. "I need to leave before I fall asleep," he murmured, his breath tickling Jumin's skin.

Heartache gripped Jumin, and he made a dissatisfied noise.

Zen propped himself up on his elbows. "Remember a few years ago when I fell asleep in your arms and woke up here in the morning when your servants were trying to open the door?" He asked.

Jumin grimaced. Zen had to bring that up almost every time they were together, since Jumin never wanted Zen to leave. It was true, however. Staying was too risky.

Zen poked Jumin's nose. "You're too comfortable," he said, "And so is your royal-ass bed."

He sat up, and Jumin followed him to pull him into a kiss. He savored the feeling of Zen's lips as if he weren't going to feel them again for another six months. His head started to spin before Zen pulled away.

"I'll be back," he promised, "It won't take me six months this time."

"Six weeks is still too long," Jumin said.

Zen hummed. "How about three weeks?" He asked, "Give or take."

Jumin sighed. He didn't want to sound too desperate.

Zen started to put his clothes back on. "If you miss me too much," he said, "Find me at the theatre and invite me. I'll think about whether to accept." He winked and stood up.

Jumin lay down and turned on his side to watch Zen leave. He stopped at the entrance to his balcony and turned to blow Jumin a kiss. "Goodnight, my Prince Charming," he said.

It was difficult to fall asleep once Zen was gone.


	4. The Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumin meets his next potential spouse, and finds himself interested for reasons he could never have guessed.

Jumin had turned down most of the larger kingdoms' offers for marriage, much to his father's dismay. They needed a powerful partnership between kingdoms, his father had said. Jumin assured him that he would find a suitable marriage, though he was still uncertain. 

He couldn't keep refusing until there were no princesses left. Doing such would damage the Rhell Kingdom's reputation. Still, Jumin couldn't bring himself to accept any of the offers given.

If there were a princess that seemed uninterested in him, then maybe that would suffice. It would be tolerable to have a marriage where neither party expected intimacy. However, he has not yet met a princess that hasn't fallen at his feet. It was most likely because they were told to do so, but it was difficult to tell which ones were sincere.

Jumin uncrossed his legs as the castle of his next potential marriage offer came into view from his carriage. It was a small castle, only about an eighth of the size of Jumin's home, and it was in the middle of empty hills and fields. A village kingdom named Irekha, made up of rural settlements and farms. Turning this kingdom down wouldn't hurt much. They were probably surprised that Jumin had visited in the first place.

The welcoming party was small, almost underwhelming. The king and queen both stood proudly next to their only daughter, surrounded by a few guards and other servicepeople. They were dressed in fine clothes, however they were much less grand than the clothing most royalty wore. Most likely, there was no need for grandeur in such a rural kingdom, rather than there being a financial limitation. 

Jumin moved through his motions as they greeted each other. He usually tended to dissociate during such formal interactions, and this time was no different. He was successful, because soon the king was smiling and leading him inside the castle.

After a miserable half hour of small talk, Jumin was excused to his bedroom. The queen told him to stay as long as he would like, and Jumin gave a generic, appreciative response before he turned the corner to follow the servant to his quarters.

As soon as he was free from any social responsibility, Jumin relaxed. His head buzzed from the interaction, and he could only offer a quiet "thank you" to the servant once he arrived at his room.

He sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace and rested his head on the back. The previous events flowed through his mind as he processed what happened.

The king was a proud man, but not as proud as his wife. The queen boasted about Irekha through the entirety of their conversation. Jumin had known about their economy, trade and agriculture, however he hadn't known about all of the additional projects within Irekha carried out by the queen. She was a resourceful woman, and made sure to present her daughter as the same.

The daughter was uncomfortable. Jumin didn't like to guess people's motives, mostly since he wasn't very good at it, so he didn't spend too much energy analyzing her emotional state. She had short, bouncy blonde hair, and a masculine voice. If she hadn't been wearing a dress, Jumin would have assumed she was a man. Like most of the women he had seen so far, her breasts were pushed up and together so that they swelled out of the low, tight neck of the dress, but she had spent much of the time wrapping her shawl around her chest in modesty. 

Her hesitance to court him was the sole reason Jumin found himself hopeful.

Jumin wanted to talk to his advisor. She always came with him on these trips, but she rode separately. She wasn't exactly the best company, but her advice was helpful when he needed it. She was also the only person other than Zen who knew of his romantic preferences.

He could go search for her, but there stood the risk of running into someone he had to talk to. He knew he would be able to pull it off, but the thought of any more social interaction than needed was distasteful.

He sat in the chair for a few moments, staring at the fields outside the window, until he remembered the letter Zen had left him at home. All of his apathy left him as he hopped up from his chair to look through his bags. The servants had put them by the closet, and Jumin was thankful that they didn't try to unpack for him. He found the letter in a secret pocket in one of his bags, then returned to his chair.

Zen had left the letter under Jumin's bed where he kept the lubricant, and Jumin hadn't found it until right before he left for his trip. Now that he was far away, he could use what little of Zen he could get. It was an incredibly plain envelope, and Jumin smiled, knowing Zen would cut off a finger before spending money on impressing him. He pulled the crude paper from the envelope and opened it.

_Prince Charming,_  
The last six months were too ~~unbearable~~ boring without you. I won't be leaving like that again soon. There's no need to think that getting a wife will keep me away, either. Even if you have to marry, you'll have me.  
Don't spend too long wooing your princesses. I might miss you. What an awful thought. 

The letter had no farewell. There wasn't any need for one, anyway. Jumin had to hold the letter up to the light to read the crossed out word at the beginning, but he smiled once he deciphered it.

* * *

Dinner was served to the royal family and a few of the servicepeople, including Jumin's advisor, Jaehee. He wasn't able to speak with her privately, but her presence to his left helped to ease him. She didn't have his social disabilities, and she was an expert as detecting and quelling awkward situations. He could count on her to keep him in check.

The princess -- Sung was her name -- was placed directly across from him, while the king and queen sat on each end of the table. This was the usual placement for these kinds of dinners. It was awkward most of the time, especially when the princesses thought Jaehee was some sort of competition. Thankfully, Sung was just as quiet and demure as earlier that day. 

"So what kinds of things do you enjoy in your spare time?" The king asked before shoving a bite of roasted sheep in his mouth.

"I enjoy riding," Jumin said, "I spend most of my time reading and working, however." After a brief pause, he added, "I also enjoy playing with my cat."

He caught Sung's eye as she gave what seemed to be the first genuine smile that day. Her eyes were a peculiar shade of violet, and it reminded Jumin of Zen's rose-red. He smiled back at her, and she looked down at her food. He couldn't read her expression, though that wasn't anything abnormal for him. He would ask Jaehee for her interpretation later, if he still cared.

"Ah," the king said, "we all enjoy riding here as well. These Irekhan fields are perfect for it."

Jumin nodded. "I'm certain of it," he said.

"We would love for you to join us," the king continued, "We have a hunt planned for later this week."

"I don't hunt," Jumin said, "Killing for sport isn't my favorite pastime." Jaehee tapped his leg under the table, and Jumin quickly continued, "I prefer to ride for pleasure. Sort of like taking a stroll in the park, but on a horse." He gave the king a smile and turned back to his food. He waited for another signal from Jaehee, but she kept to herself. 

"I see," the king said, "you're a lot like Sung in that way. A compassionate heart."

Jumin met Sung's gaze, but she quickly looked down. Her lips curved upward only a little, and Jumin dared to think that she looked uninterested. He asked, "Do you enjoy riding as well?"

She looked back up again, then nodded. "I do," she said. She looked at the table, then the small, possibly-genuine smile returned to her lips. "My horse is almost my other half," she said. She must have a personal interest in riding horses. Jumin tucked that note away in his mind for later, should he care enough to remember it.

"Don't say that, Sung," the queen said with strained humor, "It sounds as though you're wanting to marry that horse." The way that she looked at Sung with pleading disappointment gave Jumin the impression that Sung has always felt strongly about her horse, and that the queen disliked it.

Jumin found an opportunity to talk about something interesting for once, and he took it. "I completely understand, Sung," Jumin said, "My cat is very much my other half. I find it difficult to focus if she isn't with me."

Sung smiled again, this time a little wider, and Jumin could believe that it was a sincere one. "What's her name?" she asked.

The prospect of someone being interested in his cat made Jumin excited. He sat up a little taller in his seat. "Her name is Elizabeth 3rd," he said, "Her fur is long, soft, and pure white." He couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Jaehee tapped his shoe gently, reminding Jumin to tone it down. He took a sip of wine to calm down. Most people think it weird to be excited about a cat, especially if you're the seemingly emotionally stunted Jumin Han.

Sung still had that small smile. "She sounds beautiful," she said. She looked down again. "My horse's name is Nari. She's white and this color." She touched her blonde hair, and looked back up at him again.

Jumin smiled politely. "I would love to meet her," he said.

The king took the opportunity to speak. "Sung, why don't you go riding tomorrow?" he asked, "You can show Prince Jumin your horse then."

Sung looked awkward at the prospect. She looked down at her food and picked at it, and Jaehee tapped Jumin twice on the ankle -- her signal for a subject change.

Jumin turned to the queen. "Your Highness; I would love to know more about your charity projects."

* * *

A knock sounded from his door late that night, a few hours after dinner. Jumin was thankful that he hadn't dressed in his nightclothes yet as he stood from his chair.

When he opened the door, he saw Sung looking up at him, wearing a set of men's clothes. Jumin stared at her light blue silk coat, then at her determined expression. She clearly wanted to speak with him. 

He stepped aside and held the door open. "Please come in," he said, "If you'd like."

She walked inside with a confident stride and turned around on her heels to face him in the middle of the room. "I wanted to greet you personally," she said, her voice clear and controlled, "And also to apologize." 

Jumin fidgeted with his sleeve as he approached her. She looked completely different in those clothes. In fact, there was no trace of femininity on her at all. His gaze flicked down to her chest, and found it flat, as opposed to before. He quickly looked back up at her face. "I don't believe you've offended me," he said. Anxiety gnawed at him from the unexpected situation.

She nodded and breathed in through her nose. "Maybe not yet," she said, "But..." She sighed and her confident stance drooped for a moment. "I hate that you had to come all this way only to be let down. I'm not a princess."

Jumin tilted his head to the side and waited for her to explain. 

She stood straight again and met his eyes. "My name is actually Yoosung, and I'm a man."

Jumin's body ran cold and he found it hard to breathe for a moment. He had mistook him for a woman? No, the king and queen had introduced him as their daughter, it wasn't his own miscalculation. They had clearly meant for him to see a woman.

Yoosung waited a moment for Jumin to respond, but once he didn't, he continued, "My parents don't understand. I've been a man ever since puberty, but they still think I'm their daughter. They made me wear a dress tonight, but most of the time I dress like this."

Jumin slowly regained his ability to breathe. The odd feeling he had had about the 'princess' made sense now. The masculine voice, the modesty, the awkwardness. It added up. "You're a man," he said, quietly and slowly, "And the king and queen are offering you to me as their daughter in marriage." He paused. "Whereas in reality they're offering me their son."

Yoosung nodded, then scratched the back of his neck. "It's confusing," he said, "Sorry. You don't have to stay here any longer. I suppose you have other kingdoms--"

Jumin sucked in a breath. "So when would be the most convenient time for the wedding?"


	5. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank-you to zoreku on tumblr for helping me plot out and beta this story!! For real, this story would have ended at the last chapter if it weren't for them!

" _Excuse me_?"

Yoosung stared at Jumin with wide eyes, and his heart pounded hard in his chest. Did he hear that correctly?

Jumin stood a safe distance from him, his hands in his pockets and that same blank stare on his face. "I suppose it's unusual for a prince to marry another prince," Jumin said, "However, you must understand that that is exactly what I'm looking for."

Yoosung searched Jumin's face for any trace of humor, but he found none. In fact, he couldn't find _anything_ in that hard expression. "Are you mocking me?" he asked.

"No," Jumin said. He looked down. "I've been having difficulty finding a suitable marriage because I'm only interested in men, not women." He looked back up, and his icy gaze sent chills down Yoosung's spine. "Your parents are clearly interested in offering you as my spouse. Since a marriage would heavily benefit your kingdom, I highly doubt your parents would turn it down because I choose to call you my husband."

Yoosung felt lightheaded. So Prince Jumin wanted a husband, not a wife? He had never heard of such a thing. "Is that allowed?" he asked.

Jumin looked away again. "I don't know," he said, his voice softer, "But I'm willing to try it. Can you give birth?"

Every time Jumin's eyes met his, Yoosung felt like someone had poured ice water down his back. He nodded, feeling his mouth go dry. "I can," he said.

"Then I don't see why it would be a problem," Jumin said.

Yoosung started to shake. He had spent his whole life thinking that he would either be alone or forced to become a wife. And here was a man, asking if Yoosung would be his husband. _Husband!_ Nothing had prepared him for this.

Jumin's eyes trained on Yoosung's hands. "Are you afraid?" he asked.

Yoosung shook his head quickly and crossed his arms around his chest. "I'm surprised," he said, "I don't really know how to react."

Jumin nodded. "You may think about it," he said.

Yoosung bounced his head in a nod and he started towards the door. When he passed Jumin, he paused. "Do you want to go riding tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes," Jumin said, "That would be nice."

Yoosung left the room and hurried back to his own, his breath shaking as shivers took over his body. His valet entered the room to help him undress. The man studied Yoosung curiously, but made no comment on his nervous state. Yoosung gave him a nervous smile, and he returned it with a warm one. He pat Yoosung's shoulder when his job was done, and then left him alone.

Once he was in his nightclothes, Yoosung climbed into bed and pulled his knees to his chest. Prince Jumin was strange. He was cold. The way he looked at everything like he were looking at a wall, the way whatever emotions he had were buried under a stoic mask. Yoosung recalled the slight change in Jumin's posture when he had told him he was a man. His eyes widened and glazed over, and his body went rigid, but nothing else. If Yoosung hadn't been watching closely, he probably wouldn't have noticed anything at all. 

Then there was the conversation at dinner. Yoosung felt as though Jumin lost his grip on the mask he wore when talking about his cat. His smile was a little too wide, his voice a little too eager, his eyes a little too bright. And then, he hid behind his wine glass and the mask was back up. It left Yoosung wanting to know more.

Was this man going to be his husband? The thought made Yoosung's insides feel cold, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He didn't know enough about Jumin to make a judgement.

He blew out his candle and lay down. He was going to have to do a lot of mental exercises in order to sleep that night.

* * *

Jumin met Yoosung in the stable the next morning. Yoosung was brushing Nari when he came into view, dressed in a nice, dark riding outfit.

"Good morning," Jumin said.

Yoosung smiled, feeling his cheeks warm up a little. "Good morning," he said.

"Is this Nari?" Jumin asked, his gaze softening as he looked at the horse.

Yoosung nodded and grinned. "Isn't she beautiful?" He kissed her soft nose and hummed.

The corners of Jumin's mouth tugged upwards a little. "She is," he said. He leaned over the half-door to the stall and stared intently at Yoosung. "She has that in common with her master."

Electricity ran through Yoosung's body, and if his blush wasn't evident before, it sure was now. How do you respond to something like that? He covered his mouth and turned around to put his brush in the bucket on the ground. He didn't realize his mistake until he was already bent over, his tight riding pants stretching over his hips. He quickly stood upright and grabbed the saddle pad from its hanger, desperate to distract himself.

"Did I upset you?" Jumin asked.

Yoosung looked at the other prince, who wore a slightly concerned expression. Yoosung forgot to breathe for a few seconds, and gasped once he remembered to. "No," he said, shaking his head quickly, "No, no. Not at all. I, uh..." He placed the saddle pad on Nari's back. "I'm not used to compliments like that," he said, "At least, not in a good way."

"Is there a negative way to receive a compliment?"

Yoosung nodded and stared at the saddle pad. "Sometimes men will be lewd at me," he said, "They think I'm just a loose woman, so they can treat me however they want. When those men call me beautiful, it's scary."

Yoosung dared to give a sideways glance at Jumin, and found him looking more concerned than before. His lips were parted and his eyebrows turned a little upwards. "That's abhorrent," he said, and his voice was soft.

Yoosung smiled a little and took the saddle from the wall. He hoisted it over Nari's back. Jumin continued, "If I ever make you uncomfortable, please let me know." He scratched the back of his neck, looking somewhat _bashful_. "I have difficulty with social interaction sometimes," he said.

The sight of Jumin looking embarrassed was funny, and Yoosung grinned. "I'll be sure to stomp on your foot if you say something out of line," he said.

Jumin still looked embarrassed, but he smiled a little at Yoosung. "Much appreciated," he said.

"You're already different than those other men," Yoosung said as he attached and tightened the girdle to the saddle, "They were only seeing me as a woman, it was a little predatory. It feels different when it's a man complimenting another man."

Jumin's eyebrows furrowed. "That's another thing I don't understand," he said, "Apologies, but...how do people think of you as a woman? Even when you were wearing a dress, I couldn't help but notice how masculine you are."

Pride swelled inside Yoosung's chest and he stood a little taller. "Thank you," he said, his voice confident, "That makes me feel good to hear." He turned to face Jumin. "Actually, the men who say those things know that I was raised as a girl. They don't seem to think that magic can change something like that."

Jumin's eyebrows rose. "Magic?" he asked, "Did you hire a sorcerer?"

Yoosung shook his head. "An alchemist," he said, "But magic all the same. She could only lower my voice, but that was enough. I also started a competition among the kingdom's tailors for who could design the most comfortable binding for my chest. It took a few years, but it worked well."

"Did your parents allow this?"

Yoosung nodded. "They didn't really care much," he said, "We had a pretty bad string of harvests during that time, so they were more worried about their kingdom than about me."

A servant approached them. "Your Majesty," they said, "I have prepared a horse."

Jumin stood straight. "Thank you," he said.

Yoosung started putting the bridle on Nari. "Go ahead," he said, "I'll meet you in front of the stable."

Jumin nodded and followed the servant to his horse. Yoosung took a deep breath and hugged Nari, pressing his cheek to her smooth neck. "Nari," he whispered, closing his eyes and breathing in her familiar scent, "What do you think of him? Is he a good man?"

She tilted her head back to lip at him, and he smiled and kissed her face. "We'll see if you're right," he said. He opened the door to her stall and led her out into the walkway before climbing on.

Jumin turned out to be a talented rider. Yoosung had expected to have an easy ride, but after an hour of strolling, Jumin had challenged him to a race. What started as a light-hearted gallop down a set path turned into a weaving chase through fields, over streams and fences, until they set the winner as whoever made it back to the stable first.

Jumin didn't hold back.

"I didn't think you would actually win," Yoosung said as he gave Nari to a servant to untack her. 

"Should I have let you win?" Jumin asked. He was smiling, his face flushed from the excitement. It was a good look on him.

Yoosung stepped close and poked Jumin's chest playfully. "If you did then I would smack you," he said.

Jumin chuckled. "Noted," he said.

Yoosung stared up at Jumin and felt a tug in his gut. He kind of wanted to kiss him. What would that be like? He had never kissed anyone before.

Jumin's eyes seemed to be focusing on Yoosung's lips. Did he want to kiss too? Yoosung placed his hand on Jumin's chest, in the same spot he had poked a moment before. His other hand wandered up and held the collar of Jumin's shirt. How does one start such a thing? 

Just as Yoosung was lifting onto his tip-toes, Jumin spoke. "Would you like to go somewhere more private?" he whispered.

Immediately, Yoosung looked around. No one had seen them. He took Jumin's hand and led him down the hallway to a scarcely-used tack room and locked the door once they were inside. The only light came from the small window towards the top of the far wall. 

Yoosung turned to face Jumin and was surprised to find him very, very close. His face was close enough to touch, and Yoosung found himself reaching up to caress it with his fingers. He leaned in and Jumin rested a hand on Yoosung's hip, pulling their bodies together. Jumin's tongue ran across his lower lip and he moved closer.

Yoosung closed his eyes and tilted his head up. When their lips met, his first feeling was awkwardness. The sensation was strange, one he had not given much thought to before. Was this what kisses were supposed to feel like? Why did everyone seem to enjoy them so much?

Then Jumin's lips began to move, taking Yoosung's and sliding against them and sucking ever so slightly, and suddenly Yoosung realized why kissing existed. He pulled Jumin's bottom lip with his own and sucked on it. Jumin responded by wrapping both his arms around Yoosung's waist and pulling him closer. A strange sensation filled Yoosung's body, and he recognized it as arousal.

Yoosung wanted to be closer. He dug his hands in Jumin's hair and lifted up onto his tip-toes. Jumin made a soft sound and soon Yoosung felt himself being lifted up and carried to sit on the nearest saddle. The feeling of the saddle between his legs intensified his arousal, and he couldn't help but whimper.

His new seat left him a tiny bit taller than Jumin now, and he liked this placement. He could be the one to tilt his head down to meet the kiss this time. Jumin's hands pressed into his hips and rubbed back and forth, pulling Yoosung into him with each rub. Yoosung experimented with the kiss, and he opened his mouth and moved against and with Jumin faster than before.

He wanted to be _closer_. He wanted to feel Jumin against him, he wanted Jumin to be between his legs, rather than the saddle. He touched Jumin's sides, then reached up to push off his jacket. Jumin groaned at having to pull his hands away, but once his jacket was off, he was once again squeezing and pulling Yoosung's hips to him.

Yoosung yanked at Jumin's shirt, pulling it out from where it was tucked into his pants. He reached under the shirt to feel the warm skin of Jumin's sides. Jumin sucked in a breath and pulled away from the kiss, only to move down to suck on Yoosung's jaw and ear lobe.

"Jumin," Yoosung breathed, squeezing Jumin's sides and pulling him in. The feeling of the other prince's mouth on his ear sent shivers down his back, and he grunted softly. He scooted so that he was on the very edge of the saddle, and it dug into his crotch in a way that was sort of painful and delicious. He ran his hands up Jumin's back and pressed down, taking pleasure in the way the muscles moved under his hands.

Jumin's voice was hot on his ear. "May I touch you?"

Yoosung breathed out quickly. "Isn't that what you're doing?" he asked.

"No." Jumin stopped sucking on Yoosung's ear. "Mmm. Yes. But. I was talking about touching you in...more _intimate_ places."

Yoosung shivered as adrenaline filled his body. "Touch me anywhere you want," he said, his voice betraying his arousal.

Jumin moved to Yoosung's other ear and gave it the same treatment as before. His hands worked on undoing Yoosung's pants, and Yoosung scooted back a little on the saddle to give room. His crotch buzzed with anticipation, and when Jumin's hand slipped over his underwear, he couldn't hold back a depraved moan.

Suddenly, Jumin froze, his hand barely touching Yoosung's labia. Yoosung tried to rub against it, but Jumin pulled his hand away and whispered, "Quiet." He looked intent, as if he were listening for something.

Yoosung listened as well, and he heard a woman's voice outside the tack room. She sounded like she was asking something. A servant was responding, but Yoosung couldn't make out what they were saying.

Jumin quickly tucked his shirt back in. "I apologize," he breathed, "My advisor is looking for me."

Yoosung took a few breaths as the realization of the situation settled. Their moment together, all of those delicious touches, it was over. They had to go back to the real world now. He swung his leg over the saddle and slipped off of it, feeling weak in his legs. His crotch ached with need, but he silently told it to go back to normal. It didn't listen, and Yoosung thanked his past self for not having a sorcerer give him a dick. That would be much harder to hide.

After Jumin had put his jacket back on, he waited for Yoosung to look somewhat decent before opening the door. As soon as Yoosung had buttoned his pants, Jumin stepped out of the tack room. He cleared his throat. "Jaehee."

Yoosung followed reluctantly, knowing that he was blushing and disheveled. Jaehee stared between the two of them and her mouth hung open. "O-oh," she squeaked.

"Is something wrong?" Jumin asked, his voice surprisingly calm. Yoosung knew that if he were to speak, he wouldn't sound nearly as put together.

Jaehee was also quick to recover. She pushed her glasses up and her expression was as though she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. "Your father has asked for your return," she said, "The castle has been breached."

"What?" Jumin demanded.

Jaehee pulled a folded paper from her bag and handed it to him. "I came here as soon as I received it," she said, "The messenger bird wouldn't give it to anyone but you or me."

Jumin opened the paper and read its contents. Yoosung searched his face for any clues to what it said, but as usual, his face was blank. Yoosung inched closer to read the letter, but before he could, Jumin handed it back to Jaehee. "Prepare for my return," he said.

Jaehee nodded. "Understood." She didn't even give Yoosung a glance before she was rushing back to the castle.

"I apologize," Jumin said, turning to face Yoosung but not meeting his gaze. "I must leave as soon as possible."

Yoosung nodded. "It's okay," he said. He didn't want to ask what had happened. That might be too much information for another prince to know. Instead, he asked, "Is it bad?"

Jumin shook his head. "It seems like an attack by a small organization," he said, "Much easier to deal with than an attack from another kingdom, but I still must be there to discuss it with my father." 

Yoosung nodded again. "I see," he whispered.

Jumin finally met his gaze, and he looked sad. "I wish we could..." He looked behind Yoosung, at the tack room they had emerged from.

Yoosung's stomach felt as though it were twisting around. He smiled and brushed his bangs behind his ear. "Are we still...the we-wedding?" He hated how he stumbled over the word. 

Jumin nodded. "I have made my decision, if you have," he said. He stepped closer and took Yoosung's hand. "I would like for you to be my husband."

Yoosung gazed up at Jumin, feeling the same lightness he had felt last night. This time, he knew it was a good thing. It was happiness. "I would like that too," he said.

Jumin lowered his head a little, and Yoosung stretched up to meet his lips. This kiss was softer than the ones they had shared in the tack room. It was a goodbye kiss, he realized with a pang of sadness.

Jumin stroked Yoosung's cheek as he pulled away. "I'll be in contact with you," he said.

Jumin left no more than an hour later. Yoosung stood with his parents, watching as the carriages disappeared over the hills. His stay had been short, but Prince Jumin had woken feelings inside Yoosung's heart and body that he hadn't known were possible.

He wasn't sure how long it would take to untangle all of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please let me know what you think! Comments and reviews are a blessing~ They make my entire week, and they also help motivate me and know what my readers want to see in future chapters! (If you want to leave a review but aren't sure what to write, here's a handy [cheat sheet](http://korydweninterim.tumblr.com/post/153536841178/easy-cheat-sheet-to-comment-on-fanfics)~)
> 
> My writing blog is [ao3-epher](http://ao3-epher.tumblr.com)! I try to keep any story spoilers to a minimum. I post about my progress on upcoming chapters there, as well as questions about what my readers want to see! Feel free to talk to me, I'd love to get to know y'all <3


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